Sweat It Out
by Tawny The Disturbed
Summary: Alan falls ill and Edgar struggles to take care of him. Rated M for later intimate themes and of course the language. Contains later Frogcest but also contains a plot...
1. New Remedy

**I do not own The Lost Boys, but of course you know that. And like usual, if I had, the vamps woulda won...**

**Okay, okay, okay, this story later on is going to display incest, or in this case Frogcest. I'm usually not a fan of incest but I can't help but love this crack pairing. Very much indeed. Of course, I promise it's not going to be a huge fuckfest...this isn't AFF where anything can be a no-plot sex-hole...wow...that sounded really, really inappropriate...mehehehehe **

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Edgar had become a frequent visitor to the pharmacy for the past week. So frequent, that he was starting to become recognized by the day-shift cashier who was a blonde girl with huge knockers and a set of braces. And also by the night-shift cashier who was a long-haired, long finger-nailed guy with extremely bad breath; which would have made him a target of Edgar's suspicions of vampirism. But Edgar was too wrapped up in other thoughts to be thinking much about vampires, which was odd for him.

He was in the pharmacy during the afternoon at the moment. He dumped three tissue cartons and two boxes of Benadryl onto the counter and started digging in his pocket for the cash he'd scraped up.

"You sure you need all these tissues, Headband Kid?" the blonde girl asked as she rang up the items. Edgar didn't answer as he brought out a small crumple of bills from one pocket and then started digging in the other. "You've been in here a lot this week. Always buying tissues and medicine…"

Edgar rolled his eyes as the blonde continued to speak. _Civilians…_

"You're just about the only kid who comes in here and pays for stuff. Everyone else usually just swipes stuff. Eight dollars and sixty-two cents."

_I can barely get away with swiping holy water. _Edgar retorted silently as he counted out the bills in his hand and pressed eight dollars on the counter. He started digging in his pocket again for the loose change he'd found in the sofa, in the coffee pot, and in the drawer in the refrigerator.

"Say, Headband Kid?" The blonde asked as Edgar pulled some change from his pocket. He looked up from his palm where he'd been prodding the coins. "Someone's sick." She stated, clearly not asking a question. Edgar pressed three quarters to the counter and dumped the rest of the coins into one of his pockets. "Yeah." He said with his collected, hardened voice.

The blonde registered his money after the machine dinged. "Judging by all the tissues, he's congested." Edgar stared questioningly at her. She started pulling his change from the drawer. "Snotty?" she tried. Slight realization came over Edgar's face, "Oh." Then he nodded, "Yeah."

She held his change out to him which he took and dumped into his pocket. She reached under the counter and unfurled a plastic bag. "Try the salt water remedy. It clears up the sinuses temporarily, but it's effective." As she bagged his purchases he asked, "What's the salt water remedy?"

"Put some salt in a bowl and then add really warm water. Soak a washcloth in it, and hold it against his nose, right over his nostrils." She said, sliding the receipt into the bag. "Than have him inhale through his nose a couple times until it gets through his sinuses. He might have to blow his nose a little afterward."

"Does it work?" Edgar asked, eyeing the blonde suspiciously. He didn't make it a point to trust people very easily. This salt water remedy sounded like a torture ritual to him.

She smiled, "It works for a little while. Temporary relief, but you can do it over and over." Edgar nodded slightly, taking the bag into his hand. "Th…Thanks." He said reluctantly and turned for the door. "Hope your friend gets better!" the blonde called.

_Yeah…so do I…_Edgar thought.

He rode his bike through Santa Carla and back to his house. He ditched his bike and went inside. He strode right to the bedroom that he shared with his brother.

He opened the door, "Alan, I'm back."

There was a big garbage bag full of crumpled, snotty tissues on the floor beside his brother's bed that was pushed against the wall. There was a bucket beside the tissue bag where batches of mucus floated. A cup with less than a swallow of water and a roll of paper towels sat on the nightstand. In his bed, Alan lay on his side with his right arm curled under his single pillow and the blanket pulled up to his neck.

His eyes were red with dark bags under them. His nostrils were equally as red. His black hair was slightly splayed. His mouth hung open slightly, as it was his only source of air. He tiredly opened his eyes and looked at Edgar as he stepped into the room, removing tissue cartons from a rustling plastic bag. He watched as Edgar tore open a tissue carton and pulled a couple tissues from it.

He held them in front of Alan's face who looked subtly relieved to see them. Slowly he lifted his left hand from under the blanket and took the tissues. Edgar watched silently as Alan blew his nose. He grimaced at the sound of the snot being forced from Alan's nasal passages. He glanced into the bucket and cringed. He picked it up by the handle and brought it into the bathroom down the hallway.

The door slowly slid almost shut behind him as it always had had a habit of doing. He put the bucket under the faucet in the tub and ran water into it. The loud sound of the running water momentarily deafened Edgar to the sound of his brother blowing his nose.

He turned off the faucet and then dumped the watery mucus down the drain. He shook the bucket of excess water droplets and got up. He nudged open the door open with the toe of his boot and went back to the bedroom. Alan was now tissue-less and lying still again. Edgar replaced the bucket and gingerly sat down on the edge of Alan's bed.

He sighed quietly through his nose as he looked down at his brother. He reached up and brushed some of Alan's black locks from his face. Alan's hair was kind of greasy from the lack of a shower for three days. The status of his breath was certainly no golden star either. But Edgar didn't tell Alan any of that.

"You get any sleep while I was gone, Bro?" He asked, resting his hand on his brother's shoulder. Alan's red eyes were open slightly, sleepily staring across the room at the doorway. He shook his head slowly against his pillow. Edgar bit his lip in pity, stroking his brother's shoulder. Alan sniffled and then asked, "Can you get another blanket?"

"You cold?"

Alan nodded against the pillow, swallowing hard. Edgar went over to his bed that was pushed against the wall beside the wall that Alan's bed was pushed against. He pulled the blanket off of it and then spread it over Alan. He sat down again, rubbing at his brother's shoulder, "That better?" Alan nodded slightly. Edgar listened to his brother's shallow breathing.

Alan sniffed and then spoke in a groggy, weak voice, "When can I have another one of those blue pills?" Edgar checked his watch, still stroking Alan's shoulder. "In another hour, Al."

"Another _hour_?" Alan grumbled, turning his head slightly to look at his brother better. Edgar nodded, "Yeah."

Alan closed his eyes and laid his head back down, "_Why_?"

Edgar answered, "'Cause Alan. I don't know anything about medicine so I follow the directions on the back of the box exactly."

"C'mon, man." Alan moaned and sniffled.

"It says one pill every four hours. I don't need you ODing on sinus pills," Edgar said sternly. Alan opened his eyes slightly and looked back up at Edgar. "'Cause I am not, repeat, am _not_ writing that on your damn headstone."

Alan closed his eyes again, smiling faintly. Edgar smiled too, happy to have seen his brother smile for the first time in about a week. A long, miserable week. "That's right, Bro. You are going out with your _goddamned _boots on. The _true_ American way."

Alan let out an airy breath that was a tired chuckle. Edgar watched Alan lick his lips and swallow hard. He looked at the cup on the side table and patted Alan's shoulder, "I'll go getcha some water." Alan nodded slightly, his eyes still closed. Edgar picked up the cup and left their bedroom.

In the kitchen he turned on the water and let it run icy before filling the glass. The running water reminded him of the salt water thing the blonde cashier had told him about in the pharmacy. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to try it. He set down the cup and turned the faucet on to the red H and opened a cupboard, looking for a clean bowl.

He pulled out a plastic bowl and frowned at a small, crusty piece of food debris stuck in the bottom of it. He picked at it with a short fingernail. Then he held the bowl under the steamy water. Once it was almost full, he turned off the water. He froze, looking over his shoulder when he heard his brother coughing.

He grabbed the glass of cold water and hurried back to their bedroom. He paused in the doorway. Alan's head hung over the side of the bed as he coughed loudly. Some mucus clung to a lock of his black hair.

"Oh, Alan." Edgar murmured. He quickly set down the glass of water on the side table, sat on the bed, and cleared Alan's hair away from his face. With each cough, Edgar heard the mucus bubble and fight as it was forced from Alan's throat. He looked away as it slithered down from Alan's mouth and landed with a disgusting plop in the bottom of the bucket.

Alan was left panting from the ordeal, hanging limply over the edge of his bed. Letting down Alan's hair, Edgar reached over and tore a paper towel from the diminishing roll. He leaned forward and reached around Alan with on hand, lifting his head up gently by his chin. He gingerly wiped at Alan's mouth with the paper towel, and the bit of mucus that clung to his hair.

He hooked an arm under Alan's chest after tossing the paper towel into the trash bag on the floor. He pulled Alan up from the edge of the bed and laid him back against his pillow. Alan sniffled and Edgar looked into the bucket. Then he wanted to kick himself for doing so. Alan had produced a decent softball-sized loogy. He cringed and shook his head, adjusting the blankets back over Alan again.

Alan heaved a short sigh and rubbed at his eyes with one hand, "Thanks, Bro." Edgar nodded even though his brother's eyes were closed. He took the glass of icy water into his hand and propped up Alan's head. Alan pressed his hand against the glass as Edgar held it to his lips. He sipped slowly for a moment and then let go of the glass. Edgar held away the water and carefully laid his brother's head back down against the pillow.

He set the water down and said, "I'll be right back, Al." Alan nodded in recognition, his red eyelids sealed.

Edgar returned to the kitchen and dipped a fingertip into the bowl of water. It was still warm. _Salt…_ Edgar looked around the messy kitchen, lifting dirty dishes, opening cupboards, and sliding used napkins out of the way. He bit his lip and scratched at his scalp of light brown hair. He opened a few more cupboards to no avail. He tugged on his headband in annoyance. He went through a few more drawers and finally found the saltshaker in the silverware drawer lying with the spoons.

Edgar shook the saltshaker over the bowl but nothing came out. He pressed his lips tightly together in an aggravated manner, his throat growling. He slapped the back of the shaker and salt fell into the bowl. He watched the small, white crystals sink to the bottom in satisfaction. He stirred with his finger and grabbed a rag that he had found in a drawer full of twisty-ties. He picked up the bowl of warm salt water and went back to the bedroom.

"Alan." Edgar said. He set down the bowl on the side table and sat down on the bed beside Alan. His brother remained still with his eyes closed and his mouth breathing for him. Hardly moving his lips, he replied, "What?"

"Got something here that might clear up your nose for a while."

"What is it?"

"A little remedy I picked up." Edgar said as he leaned over and dipped the rag into the bowl. Alan's eyes opened slightly and traveled to the side table where Edgar lightly squeezed the rag, letting it drip into the bowl.

"Water?" Alan asked wearily.

"It's warm salt water. I'm gonna hold the rag over you nose, and then I want you to breathe in." Edgar said.

Alan closed his eyes, "Are you trying to drown me, Bro?" Edgar quickly shook his head, "No, I'm not trying to drown you, Alan. Now c'mon." He pressed the bundled, warm, wet cloth to Alan's nose. At first, Alan did nothing.

"C'mon Alan, just breathe in. Please." Edgar pleaded quietly. He hoped this so called remedy worked. According to the blonde, the relief would only be temporary. But if it meant that his brother could get some peaceful sleep, Edgar would try anything.

"C'mon, Bro." Edgar encouraged.

Finally Alan complied, ruggedly trying to inhale through his nose. Snot rumbled in his nasal passage as the salt water was pulled in. Edgar lifted the rag and Alan slightly turned his head away, grimacing. The warm water trickled down his face from his nostrils.

Edgar tore a paper towel from the roll and gently wiped his brother's face. He set down the paper towel and dipped the rag into the bowl. "You okay, Al?" He asked quietly.

Alan grunted in response.

"Good. Let's go again." Edgar said, pressed the wet rag to Alan's nose again. This time Alan seemed to draw in the warm salt water more easily as he inhaled. Edgar quickly took the cloth away from his brother's face when Alan started to cough as the salt water hit the back of his throat. He wiped his brother's face with the towel again.

Edgar then dumped the rag into the bowl and pulled some tissues from the open carton. He held them in front of Alan, who unfocusedly tried to take them from him. He missed twice before Edgar took his hand and pressed the tissues into it.

Alan tipped his chin up slightly to Edgar in a gesture of thanks. Edgar nodded back as Alan blew his nose with shaky hands. It sounded as if things were running through more easily. Alan removed the dirty tissues and let them fall into the open trash bag.

Alan inhaled smoothly through his nose. Unused to the action, his mouth still lingered open habitually. Edgar nodded in satisfaction, "Seems like it worked."

"Yeah." Alan answered sleepily.

"Are you hungry? Do you want anything?" Edgar asked blatantly.

Alan shook his head against the pillow and started turn onto side, facing the door. Edgar shifted slightly to allow his brother to get comfortable, "Are you sure? I could probably dig something up."

Alan shook his head again, seeming to drift off.

Edgar nodded, touching his brother's shoulder, "Okay. Just call out if you need me."

Alan didn't respond this time. Edgar listened to his deep and heavy breathing for a moment and then cautiously lifted himself from the bed. Then he quietly left the room, leaving the door open a crack behind him.

He went into the living room and plopped on the sofa. He stirred uncomfortably and then reached under him. He withdrew an empty water gun and tossed it onto the messy floor. He ran a hand through his hair and propped his combat boots up onto the coffee table, making an old burrito wrapper crumple.

He heaved a long sigh and closed his eyes.


	2. Calling For Help

"Forget it, Ed. The Goddamned thing only works for two minutes. God, just leave it alone." Alan grumbled as Edgar put the salt water rag back into the bowl. Edgar frowned in defeat. Then he picked up the Benadryl box and pulled a pill square from the sheet. He pried the pill loose and gave it to Alan who slowly lifted it to his mouth with a tired hand.

Edgar helped his brother hold the glass of water to his lips. He watched sadly as Alan swallowed down the pill and water with a few heavy and struggled gulps. He took the water back and set it on the side table. He sighed quietly through his nose, brushing back Alan's dirty hair. Four days and counting.

Alan had tried to get up on his own to take a shower earlier on, had become dizzy and went down with a loud thud that had woken Edgar who'd been sleeping on the sofa. Edgar barged into the room, and was severely taken aback to see his brother collapsed on the floor.

"Jesus! Alan! Shit! Alan!"

Edgar fell to his knees beside his unconscious brother, quickly turning him over. He brushed back Alan's hair to get a look at his face. Alan was a sickly pale. Edgar cupped Alan's neck between his fingers. He sighed, relieved to feel a pulse on either side of his brother's neck.

"Mm…" Alan groaned. Edgar released his brother's neck.

"Alan? Alan, you okay?" He asked, pressing his palms into the floor.

"Nn…" Alan seemed to be trying to open his eyes.

"It's okay. C'mon." Edgar reached under Alan's arms and around his back. He grasped his own wrists to ensure a secure grip and then started to pull Alan up. "C'mon." He dragged Alan up as he got to his feet. He turned around and slowly laid Alan into his bed. He pulled Alan's legs up onto the bed and pulled the crumpled blanket over his brother.

Alan murmured, "I wanna…take a…shower…"

Edgar shook his head in disbelief at his brother's words. He sat on the bed. "Are you _kidding_? I've been helping you to the bathroom for the past four days! You can't even stand up!"

"Ed…"

"No. Well…maybe you can take a bath or something."

"I will _not_ take a bath. Baths are for _children_. Baths are for _girls_. Baths are _not_ for men." Alan opened his eyes, weakly but sternly looking at his brother. Any other day, Edgar would have intensely agreed with that statement. But at that moment he felt that it shouldn't matter.

Alan was now refusing the salt water treatment as well as a bath.

Edgar sighed, and rubbed at his face. Then he got up from the bed. He grunted as he left the bedroom, "I gotta make a call."

He went down the hallway and into the living room. He started fishing through the mess of pizza boxes, newspapers, food wrappers, garlic chains, Styrofoam cups, and comic books. He knuckles brushed against something hard and he heard the rotary telephone ding in protest. He cursed quietly, shaking his knuckles.

He swiped away the newspaper and pulled the black telephone from the coffee table. He plopped down on the sofa and set the telephone on his knee. He picked up the heavy receiver and started spinning a phone number on the dial.

He brought his left foot up onto the sofa and let his hand wrap around his knee. He held the receiver against his ear. The phone rang twice before he heard a click.

"Hello?" Edgar recognized Sam's voice.

"Hey, Sammy. It's Edgar Frog."

He heard Sam chuckle, "Oh, hey Edgar. What's goin' on? I haven't seen you or Alan around lately. Oh, which reminds me, I've been,"

"Sammy…Alan is sick." Edgar cut in.

There was a pause on the other line. Edgar was about to ask if Sam was still there but was stopped when Sam spoke, "He's sick?"

"Yeah. Either he's sick or its vampire voodoo. Come to think of it…I'm starting to wonder if it _is_ bloodsucker voodoo…" Edgar said, narrowing his eyes and looking around the living room.

"Really? Well, what's wrong with him?" Sam asked. Edgar opened his mouth to speak but paused when he heard Sam's mom Lucy speak in the background, "Sammy, who's on the phone?"

Sam's voice spoke away from Edgar's ear, joining the background, "Its Edgar. His brother is sick."

"His brother is sick? Oh that's too bad. What does he have?"

Sam's voice came back to Edgar, "Do you have any idea what he has?" Edgar shook his head against the phone, "You know _damn_ well that I am _no_ medical expert Sammy. I know stab wounds. I know gashes. I know blood. I do _not_ know sick. I am a _vampire_ _hunter_. _Not_ a doctor."

Sam spoke away from the phone, aware that Edgar was a bit agitated, "He said he doesn't know."

Edgar sighed shortly through his nostrils and grumbled, "That's not what I said."

"Oh. Well, what are his symptoms?" Lucy asked in the background. Sam repeated, "What are his symptoms?"

Edgar gripped his knee tighter, "Snot, and lot's of it." Sam cringed, "Gross." Edgar nodded, "Yeah, it is gross. Just yesterday he coughed up a softball-sized hunk of phlegm." His voice was habitually collected and flavored with all of his natural badassness, but truly he was worried. He wasn't going to let Sam hear that vulnerability though.

"Okay…that is…disgusting." Sam said, his voice slightly shaky.

"Well, what are his symptoms, Sammy? Oh here, give me the phone." Lucy's voice sounded impatiently. "My mom's getting on the phone. She knows a lot of stuff about sick, Edgar." There was rustling on the other end as Sam handed off the phone.

"Hello, Edgar. This is Lucy."

Edgar grunted in greeting.

"So you said your brother is sick? Tell me his symptoms." Lucy said. Edgar drew in a breath, "He's blowing his nose a lot. He can't breathe through it. He's coughing up mucus. He's tired and weak. His eyes are red. His throat's buggin' him. He can't make it to the bathroom alone. A little while ago he got dizzy and passed out when he tried to get up on his own."

"Okay. Does he have a fever?"

Edgar nodded, adjusting the receiver, "Yeah. His skin's kinda warm. I don't have a thermometer."

"Alright. Have you been giving him anything?"

"Medicine?" Edgar asked.

"Yes."

"Yeah. I've been giving him that Benadryl stuff." That was because the symptoms named off on the front of the box were some of what Alan had.

"That's an allergy pill. It sounds like he has a bad cold, maybe even pneumonia. Do you have any Tylenol?"

Edgar shook his head against the receiver. "No." He'd torn the house apart looking for medicines that would help his brother.

"Okay, I'll send Sam over with some. What have you been feeding him?" Lucy asked. Edgar shrunk into the couch slightly, looking down at his knuckles, "…Leftover pizza."

Lucy sighed, "Oh, you boys. Do you have orange juice?"

"No."

There was a long pause, "…I'll send Sam over with some things."

"Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Bye." Lucy said sweetly.

Edgar laid the receiver in the cradle and leaned his head back with a sigh. He rubbed at his eyes. He'd had spotty sleep himself, between habitually waking up to check on Alan, or being woken up by Alan's coughing.

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"Edgar. Hey Edgar."

Edgar jumped from sleep with a grunt of surprise, unsheathing the wooden stake that was in between the couch cushions. Sam jumped backwards, holding a hand up. "Easy, Edgar! It's just me!"

Edgar's heart pounded against his ribs and he lowered his head, closing his eyes with a sigh. He lowered the stake and asked, "What's wrong with you, Sammy? Don't you know to knock? Not to come sneaking up on a vampire hunter? Especially one who's sleeping."

Sam moved to set down a paper bag, paused and started looking for a clean place to set it. "I _did_ knock. I was calling your name out on your doorstep. And I didn't sneak up on you." He nudged the pizza box on the coffee table aside and set down the paper bag. He was used to the untidiness of the Frog house. It was actually cleaner than usual today he noticed.

Edgar rubbed at his eyes with a yawn. Sam shook his head, "You must've been out completely cold." Edgar, still rubbing at one eye, looked up at Sam. "What time is it?"

"When I left my house it was six o'clock." Sam answered, itching his upper lip. Edgar stood and extended his hands upward, groaning as his muscles stretched and his spine cracked. "Well, Mom put this together for ya." Sam said, getting down to his knees beside the coffee table, opening the bag. Edgar crouched down beside Sam.

Sam took out a can and shoved it into Edgar's hands, and dug back into the bag. Edgar cocked an eyebrow at the can, looking at the label. "There's some soup in here…" Sam took out two more cans and set them on top of the burrito wrapper on the coffee table.

"There's some orange juice in here. That stuff is always good when you're sick." Sam said, setting down an unopened carton of orange juice. "There's some Tylenol." Sam said, rattling a small bottle of pills.

"Tissues." Sam said, setting down a fat box of tissues. "And here's some vapor rub." He pressed a jar into Edgar's hand. Edgar narrowed his eyes at the jar and cocked an eyebrow at Sam, "What am I supposed to do with this?"

Sam took the jar back, "Well, there's this globby kind of stuff in here. You take some and smear it all over his bare chest. Then you rub it in. It clears up a snotty nose. Trust me, this stuff works."

Edgar took the jar back, turning it over in his hands. He glanced up at Sam, "Rub this _all_ over Alan's chest…?"

Sam paused, and then shook his head, knowing that Edgar often took things literally. "No. Not _all_ over…just right here." He placed his hand on his own chest right under his collarbone, moving it back and forth.

Edgar nodded in understanding, "How's it work?" Sam shrugged, "I dunno. With vapors I guess. God, have you and Alan _never_ been sick?"

Edgar looked upward a moment, thinking, "Not like this. I remember we had the chicken pox when we were kids." Sam nodded, "Yeah, but that's not sick. Everyone gets the chicken pox when they're kids." Edgar shrugged, "Well, we've had snotty noses before, and sneezing. Just…never like this."

He stood up, and walked quietly to their bedroom. He opened the door slightly to check on Alan. Sam was right behind him. Alan lay still and silent on his side. Breathing ruggedly. Sleeping. Sam frowned, "Wow, he doesn't look so good. Maybe you should take him to a doctor."

Edgar closed the door and looked at Sam as if he were an idiot; his mouth open slightly and his eyes narrowed at him. "How many doctors do you know in Santa Carla, Sammy?" Sam looked to the floor, "Well, none I guess." Edgar nodded, "That's right. Sure there's probably some crawling around somewhere, but it doesn't matter anyways. I don't got the cash to pay for some guy to tell me that my brother's sick when I already know that."

He left the hallway and went back into the living room.

"Well, what about your par…" Sam paused when Edgar turned, having anticipated Sam's words. He was pinching his fingertips together near his lips and inhaling sharply, pretending to take a drag off an imaginary joint. Sam chuckled, "Oh yeah." Edgar rolled his eyes.

"Well, I gotta go. I wanna get home before Michael eats my part of supper." Sam said. Edgar nodded, "Take care of yourself, Sammy." As Sam left the room, Edgar looked down at the jar of vapor rub in his hand. He grimaced and pressed his hand against his stomach when it growled.


	3. Vapor Rub

**Aw..Thanks for the reviews guys! I know that I promised to have this chapter up before the long weekend, but I got busy this week. Being a Junior in highschool ain't no marshmallow toasting, smore making, gooey lip licking fest. ^_^' **

**I know you're eager for the sex and Frogcesty incest. Don't worry. It's coming _very _soon. Be patient, and don't hurt me. Oh and please forgive me if I describe vapor rub wrongly for I have never used or seen a jar of vapor rub a day in my life. XDD And forgive me for any mistakes. I've read through this chapter thoroughly so I don't think I missed any. Enjoy!**

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Edgar set down the jar of vapor rub. He grimaced further as he felt the walls of his stomach pressing together in protest at the emptiness. He knew if he was hungry, Alan had to be starving.

He picked up a can of soup from the coffee table and examined it. He sighed quietly, lifting his bangs with the air of his breath. He started toward the kitchen, reading the words on the label. When he heard his boots pad onto the linoleum, he set the can down on a counter. He then proceeded to rifle through the cupboards for some form of a clean pot.

He found a dirty one hiding under a greasy kitchen towel. He glared at the remnants of the last meal cooked in it. He studied the webbing and darkness of what the leftovers that remained stuck to the metal inside had become. He shook his head, tossing the pot into the sink amidst other dirty dishes with a loud clank. He turned on the hot water faucet and waited for the steam to rise.

Once it had he squeezed dish soap into the sink, bring a rise of bubbles as the water from the faucet stirred it up. He turned off the water and fished the dish rag from the hot water and furiously scrubbed at the inside of the pot. His brow lowered and his teeth ground together as his thoughts wandered, making him angrier.

_Lucy takes care of Sammy all the time. She even tried to help Alan and he's not even her kid. Jesus this place is a mess…Maybe if they spent less time gettin' baked and more time…_

Edgar yelled out in frustration and threw the wet dishrag across the kitchen. It slapped the wall, spattering it with dishwater. He kicked the cupboard doors under the sink. His damp fingers went into his hair and clenched into fists. He squeezed his eyes shut and tilted back his head, panting ruggedly. The front of his shirt, the hems of his sleeves and his arms were soaked with the dishwater. He felt the water trickle down his forearms to drip off at his elbows.

He dragged his wet hands down his face and turned back to the sink. He lifted the pot from the water, sighing quietly to see it had lost the impurities. He turned on the water faucet again and rinsed the soap suds from it.

He patted it dry with the hem of his shirt and then set it down on the stove. He flicked the heat onto high and went over to the counter where he'd placed the soup can. He pulled open the drawer and leafed through it. "Where the hell did I see that stupid…?" He grumbled under his breath. He closed the drawer and set his hands upon the counter, closing his eyes. He'd remembered seeing it someplace recently. He wracked his brain for the location of the goddamned can opener.

He finally sighed in defeat. He growled in annoyance and pulled open another drawer. He lifted a knife from it and jammed it into the top of the soup can. He ground the sharp blade around the top, the metal shrieking in protest with each scrape of the blade. Halfway around, he used the knife blade as leverage and tilted up half of the top so the can was now open.

He sighed quietly through his nose, taking in his accomplishment in a silent victory. He pushed a noodle that he had speared with the knife back into the can and then stabbed the blade into the counter, making it stick.

Edgar poured the soup into the pot. Then he went to the drawer of spoons where he'd earlier found the salt shaker and selected the cleanest one. He gave the soup a stir. He closed his eyes, his face contorting slightly as his stomach rumbled in hunger. He strode to the refrigerator and pulled open the door. He picked up the last egg on the shelf and lifted a bottle of water from one of the lower shelves. He shook the water in the bottle, seeing how it was half empty. He closed the fridge and set the egg and bottle on the counter.

Edgar reached into a high shelf of a cupboard and brought down a jar. He opened another cupboard and pulled down a glass. He nonchalantly flicked a piece of hardened noodle from the brim and unscrewed the lid of the jar. Edgar was greeted by the stench of raw garlic.

He dumped the crushed garlic into the glass and set down the now empty jar. He unscrewed the top of the water bottle and poured a quarter of the half into the glass. Then he cracked the egg into the glass to join the holy water and the crushed garlic. He picked up a dirty fork and used the handle to stir it up.

He tossed the fork across the counter and tipped up the glass. He started gulping down his Frog Juice, feeling it shock his empty stomach when it hit it. He lowered the glass letting out his bated breath. He stepped over to the stove and stirred up the soup he'd intended for Alan. He watched as bubbles began to rise and the steam the hot soup produced. He quickly turned off the heat and went looking for a clean bowl, but to no avail.

He shook his head and just propped the spoon into the pot. With his Frog Juice and the pot of soup he left the kitchen. He stepped through the living room and into the hallway. He nudged open the bedroom door with the toe of his boot.

"Alan."

Edgar looked down at his brother as his tired eyes slowly opened. He felt guilty for waking him. This was the longest Alan had slept in days. He sat down on the edge of the bed, "C'mon, wake up, Bro."

Alan licked his lips and swallowed hard. This only seemed to make his throat irritated and he started in a fit of coughing. Edgar quickly set down the pot and his glass as Alan pulled himself to the edge of the bed. He frowned in pity as Alan coughed over the bucket. He grimaced at the sound of the mucus clinging to Alan's airways, protesting as he desperately tried to clear his windpipe.

Edgar placed gentle hands upon his brother's shoulders and laid him back against the pillows once Alan had hacked up all he could. He pulled a paper towel from the roll and wiped at Alan's lips. In the process he pressed his palm to Alan's forehead, feeling his hot skin. Alan closed his eyes, his weak voice murmuring, "You're hands are cold."

Edgar quickly lifted his hand, "Sorry."

Alan sighed, "What time is it?" Edgar shrugged, "Almost dark. I brought you some soup, Al."

"I'm not hungry."

"_Please_, Alan. You haven't been eating good. I want you to try and eat it. Come on." Edgar said, nudging the hot pot of soup on the bedside table. Alan turned his head slightly, looking at it from under his red eyelids. He closed his eyes and sniffled.

Edgar instinctively yanked a couple tissues from the almost empty tissue carton. He held them toward Alan. He watched as his brother's fingers twitched, sleepily reaching for them. Edgar shook his head and simply pressed the tissues to Alan's nose. As Alan managed to lift a hand to hold the tissues to his nose on his own, Edgar shook his head, "You need to eat, Alan. I know you don't feel good but you _need_ to eat something."

The snot gurgled through Alan's nasal passages and he blew his nose. Edgar continued, picking up his glass, "Seriously, Bro. Sammy's mom went through the trouble of throwing together a little sick basket for you." He added before tossing back the last of his Frog Juice. "You're gonna eat the soup, Al."

Alan arm fell to the bed and he dropped the dirty tissues into the trash bag. His eyes were weary and his mouth hung slightly open as he breathed. He murmured, "And what if I don't, huh?" "Then I'm gonna smack you around." Edgar said nonchalantly, lowering his empty glass.

The edge of Alan's mouth tipped up slightly in a small smile. Edgar returned the smile with a smirk with an equal amount of lightness. Then he gestured to the pot, "It's kinda hot so I guess you should give it a minute or two. Last thing you need is a scalded tongue."

Alan nodded against the pillow, and shifted, turning onto his side. "So you went to see Sam?" Edgar shook his head, "No , I called Sammy. His mom sent him over with some stuff to help you. Oh, which reminds me," Edgar stood, "hang on a second."

Alan snorted quietly, "Like I got the strength to go anywhere." Edgar shook his head as he left the bedroom. He went into the living room and grabbed the orange juice, Tylenol, and the vapor rub. When he reentered the bedroom he saw the soup spoon hanging from Alan's fingers and his throat swallow.

He smiled, "Good Alan."

With his reddened eyes, Alan shot a glare at Edgar who chortled to himself. Edgar sat down on the edge of the bed again and set down the Tylenol and the vapor rub. He flicked open the orange juice carton and picked up the glass he'd had his Frog Juice in. He gulped down the last few drops of his Frog Juice and poured orange juice into the glass.

Edgar pressed it to Alan's lips. Alan reluctantly swallowed some of the citrusy liquid. "What the hell is that for?" He murmured, dipping the spoon into the pot. Edgar shrugged, "I dunno. Sammy said it's good for when you're sick." He undid the top to the Tylenol and flicked out two pills into his palm. He held them toward Alan and dropped them into his waiting palm. He watched his brother press his palm to his mouth quickly, popping the two pills and then chasing them down with a swallow of orange juice.

Edgar picked up the vapor rub jar and started reading the label.

Alan asked, "What's that?" Edgar answered, "Vapor rub. Apparently it clears up the sinuses." Alan shook his head, tossing back a couple noodles, "If it involves inhaling hot water, you can take that jar and shove it up your," "Alan."

Edgar watched as his brother reluctantly became silent. After another spoonful, Alan dropped the spoon into the pot with a sigh, sinking further into the pillow and blankets. "You okay?" Edgar quickly asked.

"I wanna die…Does that answer your question?" Alan retorted quietly with his eyes closed. Edgar touched Alan's shoulder comfortingly, "Alan, c'mon." The way his brother spoke made him nervous. He'd been telling himself for days that Alan was going to get better soon. He didn't want to even have the thought that Alan may possibly die cross his mind.

"Alan, do you want to at least _try_ this stuff?" Edgar asked, lightly gripping his brother's shoulder. Alan sighed quietly against his pillow, "_Fine_." Edgar smiled lightly, encouraged by his brother's acceptance. "Okay. You gotta sit up and take your shirt off." Alan's red eyelids snapped open and he looked over at Edgar dubiously.

Edgar simply nodded. Once Alan decided Edgar was serious he turned over onto his back, mumbling under his breath, "As if I wasn't cold enough." He pushed back the two blankets and with tired arms pulled up the hem of his t-shirt. Alan's dog tags clanked lightly against one another. Edgar got nervous when Alan sat up fully to bring his shirt over his head. This was because Alan's eyes rolled upward slightly and he fell heavily back into the headboard.

"Alan? Are you okay?" Edgar asked urgently.

Alan tipped his chin downward in the smallest of nods to reassure Edgar. He murmured, "I just got dizzy for a second, Edgar. I sat up…too fast." Edgar remained still, staring at his brother for further assurance.

Alan opened one of his eyes slightly at his brother's inactivity. "If you're just gonna sit there and stare at me while I freeze my ass off, I'm," Edgar held up a hand, "Okay, okay." He unscrewed the lid of the vapor rub jar. Edgar narrowed his eyes at the pale gunk on the inside. There were grooves in the substance which suggested that it had been used before.

Edgar curiously lifted it to his nose and sniffed it. He jolted back and held the jar away, "_Jeeesus_!" Alan snorted quietly and coughed shortly, "Wimp." Edgar shook his head, looking at the gunk from a safe distance, "Oh bullshit," He pressed a fingertip to his nostrils, "I'm pretty sure it just burned all the hair out of my nose. Now my nose feels cold."

Alan snorted quietly and closed his tired eyes, "_Great_. You're not gonna stick that stuff up my," He paused in a small fit of coughing, making Edgar wince at the sounds. With a final loud cough he licked his lips and swallowed hard. Edgar picked up the orange juice and held to his brother's lips.

Once he'd swallowed down a couple of gulps, he continued, "You're not gonna stick that stuff up my nose are ya?" Edgar shook his head, "No. Sammy said to spread it on your chest." He looked back into the jar. He stared, simply immobile, for a short moment and then dipped two fingers into the jar. The glop felt kind of cold at his fingertips. This made him hesitant to spread it all under his sick brother's collarbone.

But he gave in with the hope it would clear Alan up. With a light nasal sigh, he smeared it across Alan's upper chest. Alan jumped slightly, "That's cold." Edgar nodded, "I know. I'm sorry." He started rubbing it in with his fingertips. When the first layer thinned out he added a little more and spread it well around.

He wiped his fingers off on his jeans and screwed the lid back onto the jar. Alan asked, "What now?" Edgar shrugged, "Uh…breathe?" Alan rolled his eyes, "I'll do my best." He followed up his promise with a wet sniffle.

He watched as his brother lay against the pillows and the headboard. His eyes were closed and his smeared chest rose and fell with a calmness that may have been mistaken for sleep.

Edgar quietly suggested, "You should keep eating that soup."

"Edgar,"

"Alan, I'm serious."

Alan turned his head to one side, away from his brother. His closed eyelids fluttered slightly, "I'm too tired." Edgar snorted, "I've seen you go two and a half days without sleep and you ate like a family of pigs."

Alan sighed exasperatedly. Edgar could tell he was agitating him with his persistence. But Edgar wasn't going to give in.

"Oh, Christ, that _does_ smell bad..."

Edgar looked suddenly to him brother who inhaled experimentally through his nose. He still sounded congested but air was getting through. "You can smell it?"

"Yeah. God, that stuff is…_strong_. It smells like a greaser and a dentist crawled into a box and died." Alan retorted, his eyelids closing tightly.

Edgar laughed, "It could be worse."

He watched for a long while as his brother's nose slowly cleared up. Alan was still unused to using his nose which had been stopped up and idle for almost the past week. His lips still were slightly parted out of habit.

At one point after blowing his nose, he scrunched it up, "Ugh…Edgar…You stink." Edgar frowned, and picked at the hem of his shirt and smelled it. He grimaced, "Guess I do. I haven't showered in a couple days." _You're not exactly a bed of roses either._ He kept his comment to himself. He didn't want to further encourage his brother standing and walking around when he couldn't do it on his own.

"I guess I'll go take a shower." Edgar stood up from the bed and he said sternly, "Eat your soup."

He paused waiting for a snide response that would show that his brother was feeling a little livelier. But it didn't come. So he simply heaved a sigh and grabbed some clean clothes and left the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.


	4. Bike Ride To The Boardwalk

**Heylo my fellow twisted lovers of the lost boys and this crack pairing! XDD Just kidding. I love you guys. I know I've kinda been making you guys wait a week or so between updates but..well, you know...school exhausts me so that I don't even feel like watching old horror movies. The insomnia don't make it any better either! XDD But this week, before I would crash early in the evening, I'd write a little bit of Chapter 4! And here it is!**

**This chapter has some guest stars, the parents known for their misty, drug-induced hazes while they sit slumped idly beside a TV that plays old movies, Mr. and Mrs. Frog! XDD If they're even married...hey you never know! **

**We also have four other guest stars making an appearance in this chapter. ****Notice I said four? Hah? Hah? Any guesses? Psh, you know I'm talking about my(our) favoritest hellions in the whole world! David! Paul! Dwayne! And Marko! HOOHAH!**

**Please enjoy this chapter. Next one's coming soon. I know the Frogcest is taking a while, but bear with me! Love you guys!**

* * *

Edgar braced his hands against the wall of the shower under the spray and closed his eyes. He hung his head, letting the warm water flow down the back of his neck and down his back. He stood there silently; motionless for a long time.

He opened his eyes and watched the lather from the soap circle the drain. He blinked at the wet locks of hair that clung to his face. He closed his eyes again, breathing in deeply and letting it out in a long sigh. This was the most relaxed he'd been since his brother had first passed out with a fever.

He had confidence in Sam's help. Sam came from a completely different family than he did. He came from family with a little knowledge about being sick and whatnot. _Yeah…and whatnot. _Edgar silently thought, feeling immensely intelligent.

Then Edgar reached down and turned the water off. He heaved a longing sigh as he ran his hands through his hair, pressing water from it. He missed the feeling of the warm water gently untangling the knots from the muscles in his back and providing a soothing calmness. But he'd stayed in the shower longer than he'd wanted. Fighting back the urge to turn the water back on he tossed back the shower curtain.

He stepped gingerly from the tub, careful not to slip. He pulled a towel from the rack and held it against his face. Then he draped it over his head and rubbed furiously at his wet hair. He let the towel drape itself around his shoulders as he brushed back his hair.

After drying off he pulled on his clean clothes and left the bathroom. He went down the hallway and opened the bedroom door. He paused.

Alan had pulled his shirt back on and was lying on his stomach with his arms wrapped around his pillow. His eyes were closed and he lay still as he breathing slowly and silently. Edgar stepped quietly into the room. He looked into the empty soup pot where a lone carrot and the spoon lay inside. He smiled lightly, turning his attention back to his sleeping brother. He pulled the two blankets higher up onto Alan's shoulders and backed out of the room, closing the door.

He stood outside of the door for a moment. His thoughts wandered over the lack of food in the house, and his lack of money. _Gonna have to get to the comic shop…_

Edgar turned and strode into the living room. He sat down on the coffee table, caving in the pizza box and pulled on his boots. He laced them up and slipped a small wooden stake into the inside of his right boot. He tied on his headband. He went outside and locked the front door, pocketing the key. Edgar picked up his bike and pedaled away.

* * *

The Boardwalk was lit well and was crowded with frolicking people which Edgar was used to maneuvering through. He wasn't observing the people he passed to check for the more obvious signs of vampirism as he usually would do. He was simply focusing on his intent to get to his parent's comic shop which he hadn't been to for a few days.

His senses became alert as he heard motorcycles rev. He did his best to ignore the bikers as they circled him as he pedaled on his bicycle. He kept his eyes straight ahead. A blonde guy with blue eyes passed his vision, wearing all black and sneering at him; then a guy with long dark hair and a Native American complexion; then a very boyish and angelic faced boy with light blonde hair falling down his back with a smirk; then a golden haired, laughing guy who Edgar mentally compared to Twisted Sister.

_Oh leave me alone…_Edgar thought exasperatedly.

Edgar had to brake slightly as the Native American cut into the circle they were making around him to avoid crashing into him. Edgar remained silent, fully understanding the situation he was in, their amused laughter ringing in his ears. The worst thing to do when you're outnumbered is to run your mouth.

Eventually the bikers grew bored of harassing him. The guy dressed all in black, who Edgar had deducted as the leader, broke circle first and revved off behind Edgar. The other three followed after him. He could hear Twisted Sister still laughing, and he heard them all give a holler and a whoop. He glanced over his shoulder to see their coats fluttering behind them and the pedestrians hurriedly parting as they revved their way toward the beach. Edgar sighed inwardly and pedaled on.

He brought his bike right into the comic shop, knowing full well that leaving it outside was like pasting up a giant neon sign that blinked in big bright letters 'STEAL ME'.

There were a couple of thirty year old guys arguing in the back over a Wonder Woman comic. Other than that the place was just about deserted. Edgar propped his bike up against the counter. He looked at the two adults settled down behind the counter with the TV beside them playing some old black and white film. He knew their eyes were closed behind the big shades they wore as they sat in their drug-induced haze.

He ducked behind the counter and opened the cash register. His eyebrows lifted. There was a decent amount of tens, twenties, fives, ones and even coins. He glanced around the comic shop. He'd been expecting the whole shop to be completely void of comic books; and the cash register to be void of all cash except for a meaningless penny. He had expected the whole business to fail without him and brother around.

_But it hasn't…_

He felt long, thin fingers touch the back of his hair that was still slightly damp from his shower. "Eddie, I told you not to swim in the toilet."

Edgar turned his head and looked over his shoulder at his mom. Her hand went into her long, thick, untamable hair and swept it back. "I haven't been swimming in the toilet." He reassured his high mother. She nodded with a smile, "Okay." Then she pointed at him, "As long as you keep the toilet away from the dog."

Edgar shook his head and looked back into the cash register, picking up two tens, a five and some quarters. "We don't have a dog, Mom."

"Oh…we don't?"

"No, Mom."

"Oh…Then how come this always works? GET YOUR STICKY FINGERS OUT OF MY STORE! SIC'EM FIDO!" She bellowed.

Edgar jumped, the hair on the back of his neck sticking up. He looked up and saw an equally frightened punk with hair sticking up in every direction toward the opposite side of the store. He quickly slammed down the comedy comic he'd been about to swipe and booked it out of the entrance behind him.

Edgar glanced at his mom with wide eyes and realized how she'd managed to keep the comic shop from becoming a comic-less shanty. He secretly thanked the fake Fido that his mother's drugged imagination had spawned.

"On second thought, we _do_ have a dog."

His mom smiled, "Oh good. Think you can pick up some dog food? We just ran out in the back." She waved skinny finger up at the ceiling and then behind her. Edgar shut the cash register. "Sure, Mom."

"Thanks, Eddie." She said, crossing her arms and settling back into her seat against the wall.

"Yeah…see you." He said and ducked out from behind the counter. He led his bike out of the shop. He thought about all the aspects of bad parenting he'd just witnessed. Then he scoffed. Before he'd met Sam Emerson, it all had seemed tiring but entirely normal.

"Hey! Headband Kid!"

Edgar paused in the crowd as a blonde teenager came up to him. She was accompanied by two brunettes. He got onto his bike.

"Hey." She smiled lively as he started lazily pedaling, letting her walk beside him. "Hey." He grunted, recognizing her. _The day cashier at the pharmacy…_

She gestured at him to her friends, "Girls, this is that kid I was telling you about! The one who always comes in and buys tissues!" The girls all overcame with understanding. The shorter brunette came around to his other side, "Somebody in your family sick?"

Edgar nodded slightly, keeping his attention in front of him.

"How'd the salt water remedy work for your friend?" The blonde asked. Edgar glanced at her and noticed that her braces were gone. "He's still sick." The three girls broke out in saddened "Aw"s.

He did his best to keep his annoyed, throaty groan silent. _Civilians… _He knew that he was at least five years younger than these girls and that he was just unintentionally humoring them with his mysterious actions and his cute little sick story.

"Jamie! Hey! Over here!" a voice barked loudly over the noise of the Boardwalk. The blonde turned her head. She smiled widely and waved at a person Edgar couldn't see. The taller brunette shrieked and ran off, "Danny!"

"Heyyy!"

The blonde looked at Edgar, and smiled, "Well, hope your friend gets better, Headband Kid. See ya!" She and the other brunette took off in the direction their friend had scurried off to.

Edgar swiftly started pedaling, determined to get away before they changed their minds about letting him alone. He shook his head, lowering his eyebrows. He wasn't used to sympathetic attention from strangers. Every fiber in his body was miffed.

* * *

Edgar sighed quietly as he unlocked the front door, cradling a brown paper bag in the hook of one arm. He pocketed the key and opened the door, stepping inside, out of the night. He locked the door behind him and stepped through the darkness. In the kitchen he flipped on the light switch; his eyes wearily narrowing slightly.

He paused, worriedly looking over his shoulder at the sound of coughing coming from the bedroom. He waited until it ceased before setting the brown paper bag onto the counter.

He reached into it and starting gingerly setting the contents onto the counter. There was a package of ham and a package of turkey cold cuts, a loaf of bread, mustard, and a carton of eggs. He dropped the meat, eggs, and mustard into the almost-emptiness of the refrigerator. He left the loaf of bread on the counter and folded up the brown paper bag.

Edgar reached up and rubbed tiredly at his eyes with his hands. His jaw lowered in a yawn. He ran a palm down his face and heard another fit of coughing coming from the bedroom. He sighed blearily and waddled from the kitchen. He trudged through the living room, flipping on the light switch along the way. He slipped into the hallway and opened the bedroom door.

With the light from the living room, Edgar could see his brother lying on his stomach with his arm hanging off the side of the bed. The blankets had made their way down to the small of his back. Edgar curled his lips inward slightly when Alan inhaled deeply and throatily coughed. The sound wasn't as wet with mucus as it had been. But nevertheless, it sounded brutal.

Edgar tiptoed into the room and flipped open the carton of orange juice, refilling Alan's empty glass. He stared somberly down at his brother as he closed the juice carton. He placed the carton on the side table as Alan licked his dry lips and swallowed hard in his sleep. Edgar took hold of the blankets and pulled them up to the back of Alan's neck; gingerly running a hand against his brother's shoulder blade.

Then Edgar turned and left the bedroom, doing his best to close the door silently. He stepped across the hallway, through the living room and into the kitchen. He flipped off the light switch and went back into the living room. He sat heavily down onto the coffee table and unlaced his boots.

Edgar lifted the small wooden stake from his boot and set it down beside him. Once his feet left his boots, he stood up and undid his jeans, shucking them as well so he stood in his t-shirt and boxers. He shuffled over to the light switch and flicked it off, engulfing the room in darkness. On the way back from the light switch he bumped his shin off of the coffee table and mumbled a string of incoherent complaints and swear words. Then he plopped down on the couch with a tired groan.

He reached upward, stretching out the muscles in his arms, yawning deeply. Then Edgar turned, bring his legs up onto the couch. He punched the throw pillow that was stained and smelled like musty malt and root beer to get the lump out of it and settled his head onto it. Edgar closed his eyes and crossed his arms in a final display of welcoming sleep.

He opened his eyes and glanced toward the hallway through the darkness. _Three…two…one… _But no cough came. Nor did a sneeze. Not a call for Edgar's help. Nothing. It was dead silent. Edgar reluctantly closed his eyes again. It took him a long time to finally fall asleep because he kept struggling to stay awake, to hear any sort of noise from the bedroom he shared with his brother. Sleep claimed him despite his mental protests in the name of the worry for his brother.

Edgar slowly awakened. His body started to wake up and his senses came to life. He felt something gently shaking his shoulder. Something slick and wet was on his cheek and his arms were wrapped around a pillow.

"Edgar…" came a quiet voice.

Edgar's eyes fluttered open and he looked around as his vision adjusted. Inwardly Edgar jumped in surprise. He lifted his head, looking at his brother who sat on the coffee table across from him.

"Alan, what are you doing up? How'd you get out here?" Edgar asked, pushing himself up to his knees. Alan smiled slightly. Edgar could see the sleepiness still in his brother's eyes but the smile had more life in it than he'd seen in a week. "I'm feeling a little better."

"You are?" Edgar asked, brushing a lock of hair from his eye. He pressed his palm to Alan's forehead. "Alan, you still have a fever, you shouldn't be up."

Alan snorted quietly, "I wanted to get up. I've been in that bed…" Edgar reached up and rubbed at his eyes, trying to rub away the sleep. "Well…" He lowered his jaw in a yawn, trying to build words, "you hungry?"

Alan shrugged, "A little."

Edgar nodded, pushing himself off of the couch, "Okay, well, go back to bed. I'll make up something."

"Edgar,"

"Alan, I'm serious. Go back to bed."

Alan cocked an eyebrow at his brother who merely stood stock still and stared softly but seriously down at Alan. Then he sighed quietly, giving in. He started to rise and abruptly sunk back onto the coffee table.

"Alan, you okay?" Edgar urged, gently grasping either one of Alan's shoulders. Alan rubbed at one of his eyes, lifting his eyebrows with a small chuckle, "Yeah, I'm fine." Edgar grasped his brother's arms, "Here, let me help you."

"Edgar." Alan said, rising slowly up to his feet, brushing off his brother's grip. "Seriously, I'm fine, Bro." He smiled reassuringly before steadily striding out of the living room and back into the bedroom. Edgar waited for the reassuring creak of the bedsprings before he stepped into the kitchen.

That was when he realized he'd left the soup pot in their bedroom. He grumbled and strode back through the living room. He entered the hallway and stepped into the bedroom, and paused.

Alan had an eyebrow cocked and was wearing a small smirk. In his hand he was waving the soup pot, making the spoon rattle inside.

Edgar narrowed his eyes at his brother. He moved across the room and took the soup pot from Alan's hands. "Gimme that." He mumbled. As he left the room, he was elated to hear a hearty laugh come from behind him. Then he was disheartened to hear it break into a small fit of coughing.


	5. Roomful Of Steam

**Ello everybody! Happy All Hallows Eve! ^O^ MY FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR! WHOO! **

**Well, here it is, this chapter contains what all of you sickos have all been waiting for...the incesty Frogcest! Haha, I mean that as an endearment of course, as for some reason I love this crack pairing as well. ^_^ Well this is the longest chapter of them all! I hope you're satisfied with it. **

**Again, Happy All Hallows Eve! Don't eat candy with syringes in them! And if a blonde-haired biker dressed all in black offers you the fancy wine bottle...for God's sake, drink some and then pass it to MEEE!**

* * *

"The shop wasn't in bad shape." Edgar said, nibbling at the crust of his ham sandwich. Alan sniffled before slipping the spoon from his mouth. He looked down into the soup, stirring it up a bit with the spoon, coughing slightly.

Edgar was sitting at the end of the bed with his back against the wall. Alan sat with the pillows propped up behind him with the blankets covering his Indian-style crossed legs and the soup pot in his lap.

Edgar grimaced when Alan coughed, leaned over the bed, and spit out a sizable hunk of mucus into the bucket. He watched him wipe his mouth and then blow his nose with a couple of tissues before going back to his soup.

Edgar sipped his Frog Juice, "By the way, Mom thinks we have a dog."

Alan paused, and stared at Edgar, asking a silent question with his tired, reddened eyes.

Edgar nodded. "I am _not_ kidding. It's how the comic shop hasn't fallen apart. She's chasing everybody off by screaming at the top of her lungs 'SIC'EM!'." Alan jumped slightly when Edgar shouted.

Edgar shook his head, "Dunno how many the woman smoked off before I got there." Alan looked back down to his soup, spooning more into his mouth. "But I wasn't gonna tell her Fido didn't exist if it was keeping the shop running while we're not there." Edgar said, lifting his sandwich back to his lips.

Alan said nothing. The room was vacant of words for a long while. The only sounds were the light click of the spoon against Alan's teeth and the sound of their throats swallowing down orange juice or Frog Juice.

Edgar didn't mind it. He welcomed it. It was as if things were normal again. Edgar had his personality that was generally tough in the loud, expressive way. Alan was usually quiet. He was so silent and solemn with his dark, observant eyes. That made him tough. Edgar was used to doing most of the talking. He was used to Alan's quietness. He was comfortable; even in silence.

Edgar heard the spoon hit the bottom of the pot just as he'd lifted the last of his sandwich to his mouth. Alan set the soup pot on the side table and picked up his orange juice, tossing back the last couple of swallows. As he set the glass down, he sighed quietly.

Edgar watched as his brother rubbed at one of his eyes drowsily. He kept watching as Alan's other hand joined the first and rubbed thoroughly at his face. He quietly said, "You feeling any better? Are you still hungry?"

Alan lowered his hands with a shake of his head. "I'm full." He touched his hair, "Think you'll let me take a shower?" Alan looked patiently at his brother.

Edgar drew in a breath and sighed quietly through his nose. He glanced at the bedroom floor. He looked back to his brother, "If you can make it to the bathroom door without getting dizzy or passing out…I guess I'll let you."

Alan cocked an eyebrow at his brother. He saw a challenging glint in Edgar's eye. He could tell that Edgar was hoping that Alan would become dizzy so he could have him back in bed, safe and sound. But Alan felt slightly demeaned at Edgar's silent challenge; and looked back at his brother with a defiant look in his eyes.

He shrugged, tossing back the covers. He put his feet on the floor and rose from the bed. He walked over to the wooden dresser they shared and yanked open one of his drawers; the one that _didn't_ stick. He pulled out a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. He glanced back at Edgar who still sat against the wall on the bed. He cocked an eyebrow, shooting him a rebellious leer over his shoulder. He left the bathroom and started down the hall. He heard the bedsprings creak as Edgar got off of the bed.

Alan suppressed a chuckle as he approached the bathroom door. But he was forced to pause. He closed his eyes when his vision became spotty for a second and it felt like empty air had passed through his skull. He opened his eyes again, remembering Edgar behind him. To reassure his brother, he leered at him over his shoulder again before entering the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

Edgar stood a few feet from the door for a second, tensely waiting for a sound that said something was wrong. He was expecting a thud any second. But it never came. When he heard the shower start, he resigned himself. "While you're in there brush your teeth, dead-breath!" He called.

He smiled when the monotone response came, "Fuck you."

Edgar chuckled. He turned away and went down the hallway. He went back into their bedroom and picked up his empty glass. He went through the living room and into the kitchen. He placed his glass on the counter.

Edgar went the refrigerator and confiscated an egg. He cracked the shell against the edge of the counter and let it into the glass. He slid the jar of newly pounded garlic and dumped a couple of teaspoons into the glass. Then followed the dwindling amount of holy water. He stirred up the contents with the handle of a butter knife.

_Gonna have to ride by the church again…Hopefully this time I don't walk in on the Father seducing his little protégé again…hmm…vampire hiding in a very un-vampire-like place? Naw…the house of God woulda fried him…but then again…Ugh…where did I put that copy of Vampires Everywhere?_

He took his Frog Juice into the living room and sat down heavily on the couch. He sipped heartily from his glass, and leaned his head back against the couch. He listened to the muffled sound of the shower. He lifted his glass to his lips.

D-D-D-D-D-D-DING!

Edgar jumped when the phone suddenly rang out of nowhere, spilling Frog Juice all down the front of his shirt. "Shit." He grumbled wiping at his shirt, putting the glass down on the coffee table.

D-D-D-D-D-D-DING!

Edgar stood, and pulled off his shirt to keep the eggy-garlicy fabric from sticking to his chest.

D-D-D-D-D-D-DING!

Edgar started shuffling through the mess, looking for the damned phone. He never had appreciated the shrill dinging. He always thought it sounded like someone gnashing big bell-like teeth together really fast.

He finally found the phone and picked up the receiver mid-ring and growled a quick, "_Hello_?"

"Hey, Edgar. It's Sam."

Edgar threw his shirt across the living room in agitation, "Ugh. Hey Sammy."

"What's wrong?"

"You made me spill my Frog Juice." Edgar said accusingly.

"Oh...sorry. Ya know, I still think that stuff's disgusting. I mean, raw eggs? Can't be good for you." Sam said, adding a small, "Bleh."

Edgar scoffed, and patted his abs, "Says the one who still has his baby fat." There was a long pause on the other end.

"So how's Alan doing?" Sam finally asked.

Edgar went with the sudden subject change because he knew he had hurt Sam's pride. "He's doing better. He's standing and walking on his own. He's still tired though. He's taking a shower right,"

He froze, the hair on the back of his neck stood up and his ears pricked when he heard something heavily hit the floor with a loud thud from down the hallway. "Oh, _shit_. I gotta go Sammy."

"Wha-?" Sammy's voice was cut off as Edgar slammed down the phone into the receiver and went running to the bathroom. He bummed his elbow hard off of the wall but ignored the pain. "Alan!" He opened the bathroom door and was greeted by a roomful of steam. The mirror was covered with a layer of cloudy moisture.

Alan was sprawled naked on the floor. He was trying to drag himself up to lean against the wall beside the running shower. Edgar hurried forward, knelt down and grasped Alan's wet shoulders. "Jesus, Alan. Are you okay?"

His brother's head lolled against his panting chest as water dripped from his body. Edgar lifted him by his chin, "Alan? Bro?" Alan's eyelids were fluttering and his eyes looked foggy and distant. His hair hung down in thin, wet locks. Edgar shook Alan's shoulders, "Alan?"

Alan's eyelids were half closed as he looked at Edgar. "I _can't_…take this…anymore, Edgar." He said wearily.

"You're getting better. Don't worry, Alan." Edgar encouraged, squeezing his brother's shoulders, worried and anxious.

"It's taking too…_long_!"

Edgar shook his head, "You're gonna get better, Alan."

"I've got…to…I've gotta…gotta sweat it out." Alan's hand moved and settled against Edgar's arm. Edgar glanced at the steamy showerhead, "I don't think there's enough hot water for that."

A few locks of Alan's wet hair brushed across his eyes. He breathed heavily through his mouth and sniffled quickly. "Then you…have to help me, Bro."

"Help you? I,"

Alan's hand moved down and tightened around Edgar's left wrist like a manacle. "You gotta help…" Alan murmured. He threw his weight forward, forcing Edgar down onto his back and straddled him. Edgar grunted loudly, "Ow! Jesus! Alan, what're you,"

"Help me sweat it out, Edgar." Alan murmured, pressing his forehead against Edgar's collarbone. His left hand ran slowly down Edgar's chest. Edgar tensed. He quickly grabbed Alan's shoulder with his free hand. "Alan, get off me." He pushed at Alan's shoulder with all of his strength, but hardly stirred him.

"Alan, get off of me." Edgar warned. He tensed further and jumped under Alan when his brother's fingers slid under the elastic band of his boxers. "_Alan_! Stop! Don't touch," He gasped when Alan took a hold of him and started to stroke him. He squirmed desperately, pushing at Alan's shoulder and at the hand trapping his left wrist.

"Get off! A…agh. Alan, get off me! Let go!" He pushed violently at Alan's shoulder, trying to push harder with his trapped wrist. "Get off me, Alan! Uhn…_Stop_! Stop!"

"Help me sweat it out, Edgar." Alan spoke softly, his hand becoming harsher against him, losing its calm gentleness. Edgar sucked in a breath of thick, steamy air that circled the bathroom seeing as the door had slid shut as it always had a habit of doing. He pushed his trapped wrist against Alan's hand, "G…S-stop…" He sunk his teeth into his lip, trying to suppress a long groan, only managing to make it rumble in his throat.

"Help…sweat it out." Alan murmured.

"We can't! We're," Edgar groaned, "b-brothers. You have to," His head was nudged to the left as his brother nuzzled the right side of his neck. "Stop…" Edgar clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. Though he'd tried, he couldn't restrain his arousal. It sure as hell wasn't going to go away with his brother stroking him like that. He couldn't pull away. His sick brother had a very healthy grip at the moment. Edgar was starting to pant.

His brother's sickly heated skin radiated overwhelming heat to his body. That mixed with the steam and the fact that Alan was holding him in his hand, sweat was starting to glisten on his body. Alan's teeth softly nipped at Edgar's pulse.

Edgar pushed at his brother's shoulder, becoming weak with pleasure and hazy with the thick, warm air. "Alan…Alan…please…st…ss…" The word 'stop' was caught in his throat. His neck arched back, pressing his head into the floor, a groan coming through his clenched teeth.

The hand he had at Alan's shoulder could hardly press against his brother anymore. His breath was coming out in short, ragged puffs. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down from his temple under his headband. He felt it slither down the side of his neck. "Please, Alan…" He whimpered, willing his brother to stop.

Alan found the sound a surrender. His hand twisted around Edgar's wrist and he turned his brother face-down, making him grunt.

Edgar braced himself on his left forearm and his right hand to keep from hitting his nose off of the floor. Edgar felt Alan's hand tug his boxers off of his body. Alan's hot, wet chest was lightly touching Edgar's back. "A-Alan…don't…" Edgar breathed. His legs were nudged apart behind him. "We _can't_." He said. He shut his eyes tightly with a grunt as he suddenly felt his brother's fingers pressing into him.

Edgar pressed his forehead against the floor, biting into his lip as his body rejected Alan's intrusion. A whimper bloomed in his throat.

He felt his brother's warm breath on the lower part of his shoulder blade. He felt Alan's wet hair tickle his skin. And then he felt Alan's forehead press against Edgar's shoulder blade.

He drew in a long breath of warm air in a small gasp. He quickly pressed his lips together tightly when a throaty grunt came up as he felt another one of his brother's fingers press into him. He turned his head to the side, his temple grinding against the bathroom floor. He licked his dry lips and swallowed. "_Alan_…No…nn…"

He grunted, "Ugh!" His brother's fingers moved around in him.

Edgar's left hand clenched into a fist. His heart pounded wildly against his ribs. "_Jesus_!" He yelled when his brother's fingers moved against _something_. His stomach went entirely numb. Alan's fingers scratched against the same place, bringing a loud groan up Edgar's throat. Edgar squirmed beneath his brother.

His teeth ground together, his eyes rolling upward. The numbness radiated in his stomach. His fingers clawed at the floor. His body writhed. His arousal ached so much that it hurt. He grunted when Alan's fingers slid out of him.

For a moment he panted, laying his head down on the floor; his stomach stirring within him; the sweat trickling down his neck; the hot water falling to the floor of the tub.

Edgar felt something much bigger than his brother's fingers being pressed into him. He sucked in a breath, lifting his head from the floor, making a drop of sweat fall from his hair. He let it out in a few labored grunts and agitated moans. He gasped in another breath as Alan buried himself deeply into him.

His stomach grew incredibly warm inside of him as Alan slowly began to thrust back and forth in him. He yelped in pain with each movement. His chin scraped against the bathroom floor. He felt his brother's hand glide up the side of his thigh to cup his right hip. Alan's stomach ground against the small of Edgar's back.

After a few long moments, Edgar found himself welcoming the agony, relishing it, groaning to it. His lungs focused solely on breathing only, forbidding him to make words. He felt something trickling down his thighs.

_It hurts…but…No…this is…wrong…he's my…my brother…This isn't…right…_Jesus_ it feels…_

He couldn't even finish his own thoughts as the bottom of his stomach fell out. With each thrust, with each breath, he sighed. Short, throaty, pained, blissful sighs. He lost his ability to think when his skull erupted with dizziness. The numbness from his stomach escaped and spread to his entire body. Like a limb that had fallen asleep, his whole body was sensitive to everything.

He could hear Alan's quiet, long breaths and feel them brushing against his shoulder blade. Then Edgar felt his brother's hand wrap around his arousal. He moaned when Alan filled him up again.

"God..._damnit_!" Edgar shouted, pressing his forehead into the floor as Alan rubbed directly against that spot within him. He groaned, clawing at the floor as Alan did it again. Alan's other hand moved from Edgar's hip, sliding up his chest to grip his shoulder, still caressing Edgar's arousal.

_God… _It hurt Edgar like hell, but he was relishing Hell. Tears joined the sweat on his face. His breathing was becoming even more shallow and fast. Right up until his breath seized up in his throat as he let go in Alan's hand.

His brother continued thrusting deeply into him. Edgar squeezed his eyes shut, his eyebrows arching. Alan continued on for several long moments. Edgar's hands moved weakly against the floor and he moaned deeply as Alan fell over the edge with him. Then Alan slumped heavily onto his brother, his hands releasing him.

Edgar laid his head down as the weight of his brother pressed him into the floor. He was panting, sweating, trying to find his breath. He could feel one of Alan's hands lying on the floor under his pelvis. The other was lying on the floor beneath his chest.

After about five minutes, his mind cleared away from the dizzy cloud, and he regained his breath. Edgar murmured, "Alan." His brother didn't respond. Edgar could feel Alan's slick chest rising and falling against his back. "Alan?" Edgar murmured again, worried of his brother's stillness. Still Alan remained silent.

Edgar lifted himself from the floor and inched out from beneath his brother, groaning when Alan's presence left his insides. He lowered his head to the floor and closed his eyes, taking a moment to recompose himself. Then he turned around on the floor, seeing his brother lying limply.

Edgar tried to sit on his ankles, but quickly jumped back up, rethinking the move since his backside protested in fiery pain. He reached two hands toward his brother, "Alan…?"

Gently he lifted Alan's head, gingerly cupping his face. Alan's lowered eyelashes were fanned out on his cheeks; his face entirely expressionless, if not vulnerable. Edgar brushed back Alan's wet hair that clung to his warm, damp forehead. He sighed quietly through his nose, laying his brother's head carefully back onto the floor.

Edgar ran a hand through his own hair. Then he leaned forward slightly and sought his feet. He stumbled slightly when he stood and grabbed onto the sink counter to steady himself. Keeping a grip on the counter, he picked his discarded boxers up off of the floor. Gingerly, shifting his weight from foot to foot, he pulled them on.

Testing his balance, Edgar released the sink counter. When he didn't fall he limped across the bathroom and turned off the shower that had run cold. He curled his lip inward and closed his eyes at the pain. He braced a hand against the wall, hung his head and ran his other hand roughly down his face.

_He's sick…so it's not his fault. He's running a fever…and it made him delirious. He would've never done it if he was in his right mind…I gave in to it…_

He shook his head and lightly knocked his forehead on the wall. He lowered his gaze and stared at the floor for a few minutes. He pulled the towel from the towel rack and pressed it to his sweaty face with a breathy sigh. He lowered the towel from his eyes and looked down at his unconscious brother.

Cautiously Edgar knelt down beside him and shifted to his knees. He gently ran the towel down Alan's back to dry him. Then he carefully turned his brother onto his back. He froze when he saw blood smeared on Alan's lower stomach. He looked at the floor and saw the crimson color there too.

Edgar pressed his lips together in a taught line, and closed his eyes. It was _his_ blood. Alan had made him bleed. He shook his head lightly, scattering his thoughts. He opened his eyes again and wiped the blood off of Alan with the towel.

He found the clean pair of boxers and the sleeveless t-shirt that his brother had taken into the bathroom with him. With difficulty Edgar pulled Alan's boxers up his legs and tucked his brother into the cloth.

Edgar shifted behind his brother, lifting him so that he sat up, his head slumping forward. He pulled his brother's hands through the arm-holes and pushed the shirt up his arms. He gently pulled the shirt over Alan's head, dragging the hem down to his brother's waist.

Edgar then looped his arms under Alan's and locked his hands in front of Alan's sternum. He gathered himself to his feet, pulling Alan up with him. With his toe he nudged open the door and dragged Alan from the bathroom. He dragged him down the hallway and through their bedroom door.

Edgar was squinting in pain as he struggled to get Alan into his bed. He shifted Alan's legs to settle beneath the blankets which he then dragged up to Alan's chest. He sighed heavily through his nose, giving way to the finality of the struggle. He stood for a moment, looking down at his unconscious brother.

He looked to the empty glass on the side table. He opened the carton of orange juice and poured until the empty glass was a little more than half way full. He flicked the carton closed and set it back down.

Edgar reached up to rub at his eyes. His thoughts were now like hammers banging away in his skull. He sighed, went over and sat down on his own bed. He quickly found his feet again, closing his eyes tightly and sinking his teeth into his lower lip. "_Jesus_." He hissed. It hurt. God, it hurt.

Edgar pulled in a deep breath of air and let it out slowly. He opened his eyes and turned to face his bed. He gingerly climbed onto it on his hands and knees. Then he laid down onto his stomach. He pulled the pillow into his grasp underneath his head. He looked over at Alan.

His brother lay still and silent. The only movement he could see was the slightness of his chest rising and falling as he breathed. Edgar quickly turned his gaze away, burying his face into his pillow. What had just happened seemed unreal now. He wondered silently if it had happened. But it had happened. That put severity to the situation.

He worried. He worried for a long time against his pillow. What if he and his brother may not be able to speak to one another the same way that they had before? What if Alan completely beat himself up for it? What if Edgar couldn't bring himself to look at Alan anymore? What if? What if? What if?

Edgar's eyes sunk closed as his worrying grew weary.


	6. Death To All Vampires

**Alas, my friends. This is the final chapter. I am a little disappointed to say that it is the shortest chapter of the entire story, but I hope it is a good ending. I mean at first, chapter 5 was going to be the last chapter. I was gonna leave you guys to ponder! But alas (I love that word), I was kind and gave you a little more. **

**I have no idea if a sequel might bloom from this. Haha, I guess it depends on my inspiration levels and the feedback I get. Ooh, if I do make a sequel I might have an interesting idea for it. **

**Well, I hope you liked Sweat It Out. Keep on reading. I meant to write a Halloween treat for you guys, but I didn't have time. So I guess I'll have to hand it in late. Keep a look out my friends!**

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Edgar opened his eyes, finding darkness. For a millisecond he wondered why he was awake. And then there was a cough from the opposite wall. He turned his face out of his pillow and further found darkness.

He heard Alan cough again and then attempt to clear his throat. Edgar remained still where he lay on his bed. He stared in the direction of his brother.

"Are you okay, Al?"

There was a pause. "Edgar?" Edgar guessed that he had surprised his brother. Edgar reached down and waved in the air below his bed until his fingers found the lamp. He heard the switch on the table lamp clink as he pressed it and then the bare light bulb lit up the room. He squinted against the sudden light.

Alan let out a small gasp at the light. He reached up and rubbed at his tired eyes wearily. Edgar asked again, bringing his arm back up to the bed. "Are you okay?"

Alan nodded lightly against his fingertips. Edgar watched as he dragged his palms down his face. He watched as his brother looked around as he lay against his pillow.

"What time is it?"

"I don't know. Nighttime…" Edgar replied.

Alan looked over at his brother. He narrowed his eyes slightly, his eyebrows furrowing. "What…what happened?"

Edgar's insides froze.

"You…don't remember?"

He watched his brother tiredly shake his head against his pillow. Tension built up in Edgar. The turmoil was boiling his blood. He wondered what he should say. He wondered what the right thing to say was.

"What happened, Edgar?" Alan asked.

_What do I say?_ His options slammed around in his brain. It hurt.

"Edgar?"

"You…" Edgar started. _What the hell am I supposed to do?_ He looked into his brother's eyes. They were questioning.

Finally Edgar spoke, "You…passed out in the shower."

Alan blinked, an eyebrow rising. "I passed out?"

Edgar nodded, "Yeah."

He watched as his brother reached up and touched his forehead, "God…I don't even remember…I remember going down the hallway…"

Edgar tensed, "What else?"

Alan was quiet for a moment, staring off into space with a look of contemplation on his face. "That's it…" He closed his eyes with a scoff, his fingers moving into his hair. He paused and ran his fingers through the raven strands. "Well at least I got around to washing my hair before I passed out. I was probably starting to look like Dad."

Edgar nodded slightly, looking down to the floor. A concerned look came over Alan's face as he stared at his brother. He would have expected a little bit of a laugh, but there wasn't even a chuckle from his brother.

"What's wrong, Edgar?" Alan asked as Edgar slowly laid his head back down onto his pillow. Edgar was silent for a very long time. The naked bulb from the lamp on the floor was casting a shadow upon Edgar's brow.

"Edgar? What's the matter?"

"I'm just tired, Bro…" He reached down off of the bed toward the lamp, "Go back to sleep." Alan watched his brother disappear as the lamp clicked off and the room was swallowed in black darkness.

* * *

Alan stirred awake. He rolled over and pressed a hand to his eyes. _What the hell?_ He cleared his hair from his face and sat up. He licked his lips and swallowed. He reached for a tissue and blew his nose. He dropped the dirty tissue into the trash bag on the floor and took in a deep, clear breath of air in through his nose.

His ears pricked when he heard the front door open. He pushed away the blankets and swung his legs from the bed. He stepped barefoot onto the floor and pushed himself up to his feet. He opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hallway. He walked cautiously through the living room and stepped into the doorway of the kitchen. His brother's back was turned to him. He was kneeling in front of the fridge, two canteens swung around his shoulders.

"Hey." Alan greeted.

Edgar jumped, one hand moving to his boot, looking over his shoulder. He sighed, "It's just you. God… How're ya feeling?" He turned his head back to the fridge. Alan leaned against the doorway, "The best I've felt in days. I guess that shower really helped me."

He watched his brother pause. He tilted his head slightly. Then Edgar stood up and closed the fridge. He was holding a couple of almost empty bottles. He smiled at Alan as he set the bottles down on the counter. "I guess it did help you, aside from the whole blacking out thing of course." He chuckled and started pulling at the tangled canteen straps to get them off of his shoulders.

Alan stepped forward and started untangling the canteen straps for Edgar. "Yeah." He shook his head, "I still can't believe I passed out in the shower. I don't even remember getting in it." He slipped one canteen from Edgar's shoulder and slid one of the bottles of water toward him.

He started unscrewing the cap on the canteen. "Have any trouble getting the holy water this time?"

Edgar shook his head, "No. There weren't many people in the church." Alan snorted, "Remember that time we went in and the Father and that kid were in the confe-"

"Yeeeah, don't bring that up." Edgar interrupted, narrowing one of his eyes as he poured holy water from his canteen and into the water bottle. Alan asked, "Think he's a shitsucker?"

Edgar pursed his lips, "I don't know, he's always around all those crosses and crucifixes and God…ness." Alan shrugged, "Could be a vampire hiding in plain sight." Edgar nodded, "Maybe…I hate that."

Alan nodded, "I do too."

Edgar took down two glasses and the jar of crushed garlic from the cupboard. He went back to the fridge and grabbed two eggs. Alan watched as his brother cracked them and dumped one into each glass. Edgar unscrewed the top to the jar and shook some raw garlic into the glasses. Alan looked at the knife sticking into the counter as his brother squirted holy water into the glasses. He yanked it out, examining the blade, wondering why it had been there.

Edgar stirred up the contents of the glasses and picked them up, turning to his brother. Alan put down the knife and took the glass that his brother was holding toward him into his hand.

"Truth, justice," Edgar said. Alan smirked with a nod, "the American way," Edgar smiled.

"And death to all vampires!" They both tossed back their Frog Juice. They slammed their empty glasses onto the counter. They smirked at each other. Edgar sneezed.

Alan frowned, "Uh…bless you?"

Edgar narrowed his eyes at his brother, rubbing at his nose. He sniffled, "I hate you." Alan smiled nervously.


End file.
